


A Fair Deal

by Aldariel, Ascended_Sleepers



Category: Elder Scrolls III: Morrowind
Genre: Drabble, F/F, Translation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-12
Updated: 2017-10-12
Packaged: 2019-01-16 10:32:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12340926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aldariel/pseuds/Aldariel, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ascended_Sleepers/pseuds/Ascended_Sleepers
Summary: Mistress Dratha deals with a hapless Bosmer thief in her own way.





	A Fair Deal

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Aldariel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aldariel/gifts).



> I tried my hand at translations - the drabble was wonderful and then I also saw it was dedicated to me 8)  
> Original drabble in Russian by Aldariel [can be found here](https://ficbook.net/readfic/5967491)

“You tried to rob me, and now you’re begging for my mercy,” Dratha says, drawing her brows together. “What effrontery!”

The comely face of the hapless thief evinces instinctive dread, but she isn’t even a little embarrassed. The Bosmer girl straightens her shoulders insofar as she is able – powerful magic binds and shackles her in place – and answers with dignity:

“I didn’t wish to offend you, mistress, with my words, or with my actions. I was deceived. I hunted Gothren’s courier.”

The girl all but spits out the last words; she is composed, but her dark amber eyes flash with poorly concealed hatred. Almost against her will Dratha feels a tiny spark of excitement. She gestures towards a massive chair upholstered in red velvet, and the captive, clasping her bound hands to her chest, perches on it opposite of her hostess.

The magister reaches deep into the girl’s mind, urging her to tell the whole truth.

“What’s your name, my dear?” she asks.

“I’m called Gelduin.”

“What stirred up your animosity towards Gothren, Gelduin?”

“He owns my sister, mistress. And his Mouth doesn’t let me buy her back from him.”

Dratha locks her fingers together and looks intently at the girl.

“How did your sister become a slave? She couldn’t pay her debts?”

Gelduin twists her sensual lips in disdain.

“Those debts weren’t my sister’s.” She forces herself to speak. “We grew up without a mother, and our father pampered us a bit too much before he died. It was then that we found out that our dad wasted the family’s fortune on wenches, booze and gambling, and afterwards he sold or pawned everything he could, including our mother’s land.” Gelduin heaves a sigh, shuts her eyes and says bitterly: “When he got tired of running from creditors, he escaped where they couldn’t follow him. ‘Dishonor… is worse than death, and I choose death as the only way out,’ he wrote in his note. My sister and I were thrown upon our own devices.”

“What happened after?”

“It wasn’t easy to get used to the new life, but I had managed somehow. But Kirsty…  Someone we knew introduced her to Gelentor who searched for suitable brides for the rich men across the Empire. Kirsty’s far more beautiful than I…. Gelendor promised she could marry a Dunmer noble if she were jovial and obedient. That’s no great achievement. Kirsty agreed to his terms so that he wouldn’t demand anything else from her.”

Dratha can guess the rest of her all too common story, but she wants to hear it from the girl.

“When that swindler took your sister to Morrowind, instead of a husband he found her a master,” she remarks, and Gelduin nods, blinking away tears. “You didn’t see through his lies, or you’d never entrust your sister to his care. But why didn’t you go with them? You don’t like Dunmer much, do you?”

The girl tosses her pretty little head and angrily declares, “I won’t be a wife to any man! It’s not a matter of race.”

Anger suits Gelduin; it enlivens her expressionless doll-like face and imparts a kind of fatal beauty to her sensual mouth, and lights stars in her slanting eyes. Dratha can’t hold back a smile when their eyes meet, and Gelduin adds softly, coquettishly, “I have nothing whatever against Dunmer, mistress.”

Dratha nods her head in approval and loosens the spell with which the girl is fettered. “Tell me about the theft.”

“I had hoped to pressure Ryon into releasing my sister if I knew what was in Gothren’s package… I was deceived, mistress. I have no choice but to ask your forgiveness.”

Looking into her bright, resolute eyes, Dratha makes up her mind.

“I won’t take pity on you,” she says, “but I’ll offer you a deal. I’ll help free your sister if you agree to serve me.”

“And exchange my freedom for hers?” Gelduin bites her lip.

“I don’t need a slave.” Dratha shakes her head. “A slave’s loyalty is cheap. I ask you not to surrender your freedom but to bestow upon me the most precious gift of your devotion.”

“I agree, mistress,” Gelduin says, unhesitant.

When she’s free from the fetters of Dratha’s magic, she approaches her and kneels before her; she kisses the hem of her skirt, her palm…

“I’ll be loyal to you, mistress,” Gelduin promises her and fervently presses her lips to Dratha’s lips.

‘I accept your oath.’ Dratha answers her wordlessly, with skillful caresses and loud moans. ‘And I curse your enemies. While I’m your ally, none shall stand in your way.’

Mistress Dratha can be most generous.


End file.
